


and i'll find my way home (somehow, somehow)

by bloodflood



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Yall these girls man, also yang is like a disaster gay, always getting hurt and shit, and hopefully sweeter!, goddamn, i think maybe there's less angst but idk, so this is a continuation of the other fic i wrote, something shorter, yang is a smart girl! i will have none of this stupid blonde shit anymore, yang's perspective of things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 09:50:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20776586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodflood/pseuds/bloodflood
Summary: "Did you miss me?""I missed you so bad I thought it would kill me."orYang in Atlas, hopelessly, incredibly in love, trying to keep everybody at ease through it all.continuation of "i feel so homesick for a place that doesn't exist"





	and i'll find my way home (somehow, somehow)

**Author's Note:**

> y'all... i have one question: how the fuck does Blake pee in that catsuit? i will die if i cannot pee every 30 minutes. and when i do its go time, NOW NOW people. 
> 
> anyway, like i said this is yang's perspective in atlas 
> 
> and this isn't like good by any means, this is just like a short thing i've been writing while i've been trying to work on this other bumbleby story that i've had in my head for a while.

_“I want you to always remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?” - Haruki Murakami _

Math is Yang’s favorite subject in school. 

The logic of it makes sense, how everything snaps quickly into place once you apply the correct steps, understand the behavior of numbers. It isn’t _easy_, but Yang has never been interested in ease.

She likes difficulty, likes to sit and ponder about the solution. So, she watches Blake. The epitome of a puzzle, all consuming.Blake and all her walls turning around and flipping on their heads, floors shifting out of the way, a living contradiction. Blake doesn’t like the mix of sweet and savory food, but enjoys the texture of salted caramel chocolate. Fears death, but will throw herself headfirst into battle as long as it means the team is safe. There’s no equation for her, not the rush of blood, the pout to her mouth, her carefully placed foot steps, the flick to her ears. 

Blake _especially _doesn’t like when Yang is reckless, a little too battle-hungry for her liking. 

She takes a particularly nasty hit to the stomach, and it’s nothing different, she’s always throwing herself into the fray.The intact skin blushes a deep plum, the torn parts bleed furiously, soaks into her shirt, the waistband of her pants. Ruby’s hands flutter over her midsection, brow damp with worry. She tries to hide the tremble to her hands, but the gauze slips out too many times to be an accident.

“Ruby.” Yang tries to laugh, remembers to relax her jaw, lets the pain flare as she talks. “Really, really, it’s okay! I don’t even feel anything.” 

Ruby’s mouth wobbles, a coming undone, a sign of the end. She’s never been good with blood that isn’t her own. “Y-Yang—”

She’s cut off with by a gasp, one that sounds like pain, like death. 

Blake stands, weapon lowering, staring at Yang, and the horror is suffocating. Weiss rounds the corner, skids to a stop when she sees Yang against a tree, the ground and surrounding snow soaked in red, red, red. “Jesus fuck,” Weiss whispers and it’s enough for Ruby to break. 

Ruby’s hands are dripping when she rips them from Yang’s stomach, sliding red over her mouth as she tries to stifle the gut-wrenching sobs. Her knees hit the ground, shoulders shaking with sobs she won’t let herself shed. Guilt hits Yang, hard and fast. She _knows_ Ruby can’t handle her like this, knows that her pale face means something else, means death. Maybe she shouldn’t have tried so hard, maybe she shouldn’t have pushed so hard. 

_What else was I supposed to do?_

Blake is quick to move, catches the gauze before it hits the soaked ground. She falls to her knees, cutting a strip off with the sharps of her teeth. 

“Hey.” Yang manages, chuckling as Blake presses it to the large part of her wound, soaking through instantly. 

Blake’s eyes sharpen, jaw clenches taut. Angry, hurt, Yang realizes. But her shoulders fall almost in relief. “Hey.” The pressure strengthens and the pain flares into the molars of her teeth. 

“Don’t be mad, please?” Winces. “It’s not like I meant this, you know?” 

Gold meets lavender like they always do. Like they’ve always been fated to. Yang believes this. Believes that this is destiny. Believes that she’s meant to love, to love, to love. (And in the end, she hopes she will be loved, too.) 

Blake shakes her head, a strand of dark hair falls over her eyes. “Yang, I don’t know if I could ever be mad at you.” She shrugs, pink dusting her cheeks. “I mean —”

Yang’s world becomes a blur of colors, kaleidoscope in nature. The ground is suddenly very, very cold. “Oh,” she sighs, teeth chattering. “Oh, I like it when you say my name.” 

Black surrounds her vision, and she feels Blake’s hands still on her stomach. “Yang, are you— Yang, please keep your eyes open, please, please.” 

“They’re open, promise.” They aren’t, but to her it doesn’t matter. Nothing hurts anymore, not when Blake is touching her, not when her hands are pressed against her stomach, against her cheek, fingers against her neck. Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. Not anymore. 

“Weiss, Ruby, we need to get her out of here, I can barely feel her pulse…” Yang doesn’t quite pick up on the quiver in her voice, but understands the sob coming from Ruby, like it’s ingrained in her. 

_What’s the rush? It’s nice being with you. _

_/_

She wakes up sore, wincing as she sits. Feeling the stiffness of the bandages around her abdomen. 

“Hey.” 

Yang glances up, and of course she does. She will always come when Blake calls. 

There are circles under her eyes, brows furrowed in ways that sends shockwaves into Yang, hurts worse than any wound she’s ever received. 

Yang grins as Blake stands, takes in the soft gold of her eyes, her gentle stance.Blake frowns, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers the strands of a quilt. 

“I missed you.” Yang winks, going for light, light, ignores the blossoming heat in her side. 

“How?” Blake snorts, a hand coming up to stroke some wayward hair away. “You’ve been out for a while.” 

“I just feel it. Apart of me.” Her mouth feels clumsy when she talks, heavy, like it’s being weighed down. It feels a lot like pain medication — especially when her eyes droop next. 

Softness takes place of incredulity. “I’ve missed you, too.” Fingers trail down the sides of her jaw, stills on the edge of her collarbones. Yang shivers, she’s never, ever been touched like this. “Sweet girl.” A pause, and then the worlds snaps back into place, elastic that’s been stretched for far too long, suspended in space. “Are you hungry?” 

“Did you?” Yang blurts, hot and fast and all too much. “Miss me?” 

It’s a second before Blake understands what Yang is asking. 

_Did you miss me when you left? When you were away from months, years, eternities. Did you? Did you?_

“I thought about you every _day_. I missed you so bad I thought it would kill me.” Blake’s hand falls to her side, against the blanket. A familiar look of guilt crosses her face. Her expression closes, turns away. “I don’t know if I can ever apologize enough, I don’t know if I can ever get you to forgive me.” 

“I don’t blame you.” Yang says, aching for another touch, aching for another smile. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything at all. That’s just like her, she thinks. Her tendency for ruination. 

Later on, Yang wakes up to laughter outside, the stumbles of a trashcan spilling open on the street. She hears the drunk grumbles of her uncle and the shrill pitch from Maria. He spills his admiration onto the street. To be drinking with Death, what a gift. 

Something shifts in bed, then a hand slides across her stomach, careful warmth against the bandages. Fear grips her, forcing incapacitation, forcing stillness. She’s scared movement will put an end to the seldom touches that only come from bouts and bursts of bravery. Her heart beats in double-time, pulse pounding with an ache only Blake can bring about. 

From behind, Blake slides closer, pressing her chest fully against Yang’s back. And it’s hard to stifle a laugh when she feels the other girl shiver. It’s not a secret that Yang is used for her astounding, sun-like warmth. It’s hard, in this moment, to not remember the cold nights alone, wishing she’d wake up and everything would have been a horrendously bad dream, that Blake would be on the other side of sleep and laugh when Yang wiped the drool off her chin, telling her to get out of bed. It’s hard to not remember the ghost pains, waking up crying in agony, gritting her teeth against the memory of the all too sharp slice of a blade through her arm — severing not only her arm, but Blake by her side, too. 

It’s hard to forget. So, she slides Blake’s arm closer, rubs against the scarred knuckles, marvels at the slender fingers, the freckle on the inside of her ring finger. Sleep beckons her, promises nothing but darkness, the sweet sounds of nothing. A blessing, really. After months of blood-reeking dreams, a night of a blank canvas is too good to ignore. 

Sleep sings, lulling her further and deeper into the sheets, the steady breathing against her back, the whisper of breath against her neck. Her eyes drift close until the steady breathing quickens, shakes and quivers into sobs. Yang tenses, she knows a nightmare when she sees one.

From beside her Blake rolls over, the sudden loss of contact chills Yang, but Blake keeps a hand on her back, fingers subtly digging into her skin. Yang thinks about feigning sleep, worries about upsetting Blake further, but when she reachers over to touch at Yang’s pulse-point, she can’t keep her mouth closed. 

“Hey.” Soft, she tries to be soft. “Are you okay?” Yang rolls over, notices the shock in Blake’s eyes. “You sounded like you were having a bad dream.” 

Blake’s mouth opens, closes, opens again, eyes looking down and away. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” Yang moves her head, trying to catch a glimpse of golden eyes. Notices the shimmering of tears and smiles, big and bright, tries to take the heat out of the situation. That’s the only thing she’d good at doing, after all. 

So, she smiles big and bright and tries to be soft during it all, reaches for Blake’s hand because at this point, she’s not really capable to be without her touch. “You know you can always talk to me.” She hopes that conveys more. She hopes it conveys her love, hopes it conveys more than she could ever say. 

Blake’s only response is to take her hand and squeeze, jaw tight, eyes dimmed. Yang takes a moment to look her over, notices the dark circles and hallowed cheeks. In that moment, her heart breaks, shattering into oblivion. In that moment, she thinks about Adam and his rusted blood colored hair, his grimace and the implications of how Blake shook after it all. 

Yang flips onto her back, smile growing bigger as the pain flares up her side, roots itself into the back of her head. “I think we should try going back to sleep, yeah?” She holds an arm out. “Come on over here. I know you use me for warmth.” The pillow she takes to the face is worth it after seeing Blake’s scandalized stutter and blush. She grabs Blake’s hand and guides her down into her side, her head fitting into her shoulder like it’s always belonged. Like they were both forged this way, back in the stars, before they fell down to earth. Crash, boom, bang, and Yang has always been destined to love, destined to roam this planet until she could find Blake again. 

Small hands find their way under Yang’s nightshirt, one behind her back, another sliding over her stomach, careful of the bandages but securing its place above her navel. Yang tries to suppress a shiver; knows she’s failed when Blake chuckles against her neck, lips brushing against skin. Yang’s eyes shut almost immediately, exhaustion like cotton balls behind her eyes. She falls asleep like that, hard and fast and all at once. 

The next morning, Ruby smiles at both of them, crooked, but her shoulders fall without tension, and death doesn’t stalk behind her eyes. Silver eyes make contact with Yang’s lavender, smiles and nods. 

/ 

Weiss gets hurt after their next battle, and it’s the ruination of Ruby. It’s a short jump into hysterics, for her. Pacing, pulling at hair, sobbing into hyperventilation. 

“God, Ruby!” Yang hurries, pulls her sister’s hands away from their death grip in her hair. “Jaune has her! It’ll be okay. She’s okay.” 

Ruby’s eyes are nearly black when Yang can finally get her to look up. “When will it end? When will it end? When will it end? When? When?” 

Yang’s mouth opens, closes. “Ruby, really. It’ll be okay.” She wraps her arms around Ruby, doesn’t ignore the way the younger girl’s arms don’t move to hug her back. 

“I’m _tired. _So, so, tired of everybody hurting around me.” 

In that moment, the door shutters open. Blake and Qrow walk in with the scent of death and smoke attached to them. 

“Anything?” Ruby whimpers. “Anything at all?” 

Qrow stumbles towards the liquor cabinet and Blake watches him go. It’s a full minute before she turns back to Ruby, glances into Yang’s eyes and turns away just as quickly. “No. No signs of survival.” 

The final nail in the coffin. Ruby sinks to her knees. Sobs throughout the night. 

/ 

Blake pulls Yang so close she’s not sure which heartbeat is hers. 

(She suppose it doesn’t matter. Her heartbeat has never been her own.) 

Lips slot against her own in a fury, hands find the side of her face to keep her there, backs her up against the edge of a desk. “Blake.” Yang gasps, her own hands finding the material of Blake’s jacket, trying to keep the moan out of her voice as Blake’s lips kiss down the side of her neck, a leg coming up to press against her. “_Fuck.” _

“I love you.” Blake will whisper against her pulse point. “I love you.” As she finds Yang’s mouth waiting, hot and wanting. “I love you” as her fingers dip down, down, down. 

“I love you, too.” Yang will whisper later, holding onto Blake, smiling as her hands smooth up and down the length of her back, careful of the bandage that’s grown smaller since the weeks prior. “I love you so much I think the sky is breaking.” 

/ 

Yang likes math. Likes the sharp point and the scratch of graphite. Likes finding a solution. But at the same time, she understands when thing simply don’t have a solution. They just exist in time and space as they are. 

And that’s what Blake is, she thinks, watching as she smiles with Ruby, laughing with Weiss’s bad puns. Something flung out of space, beautiful and golden and warm — equation-less, but 

But when she turns around and catches Yang staring, the slow turn of her mouth, the amused flick of her ears as she catches sight of the bandana against Yang’s throat. Yang can’t help but think how there’s not an equation for stars and their dust, not one for love. And when Blake will curl up to her later that night, skin pressing against skin, Yang knows that she was never trying to solve Blake. Instead, Blake has always been the conditional solvent, a nice solution. Yang presses a kiss to her forehead, laughs as she thinks how nicely Blake feels in her hands, how clearly Blake was the solution she’s been missing through it all. 


End file.
